


Ambrosia

by contextomy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 22:20:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29641527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contextomy/pseuds/contextomy
Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Severus wakes in the Headmaster's quarters with some new decorative additions to the castle.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 11
Kudos: 45





	1. May 3, 1998

Something was amiss. 

“What is our policy on cameras?” came a shrill, unwelcome voice.

Snape looked up from his desk and found his deputy headmistress walking in with a large camera in her hand. She held it by its lens, her oily fingers smudging the glass. It looked as if she had never used a camera before. 

“Is it a threat to other students?” Snape asked, clearly bored and irritated that Alecto was bringing such trivial matters to his attention.

Alecto’s piggish face scrunched as she contemplated the question. “It’s a threat to us,” she said after a moment. “They could take pictures of our disciplining the students and send them to the Prophet out of context!” Her voice was raised to a pitch. The danger seemed to seep in as she said her thought aloud.

“The consequence of that would be even more students being pulled out of Hogwarts, which —“ Snape gestured vaguely around his desk, where piles of letters from parents requesting dismissal of their children sat. “Is already occurring.” 

Alecto wrinkled his nose at the letters. Snape had already dismissed more students than kept. At his last count, there were roughly a three hundred students remaining. Most of those who remained were Slytherins. 

“I’ll give Mr. Creevey the usual detention then,” Alecto concluded, dropping the camera on Snape’s desk with a heavy thud. The usual detention was anything but usual. Hanging students up by their thumbs and breaking their legs was not usual, but Snape couldn’t stop Alecto. After all, the Dark Lord had set her to this task. Snape knew he was being supervised. He knew the Dark Lord still did not fully trust him. 

Snape looked over at the camera. It belonged to Colin Creevey. Gryffindor. Sixth year. Avid photographer who sometimes submitted his photos to the Prophet. He had a brother who was a year younger. 

Why did he know this?

“My brother’s getting bored with so few students in his class. Why don’t you finally get Potter into his class so he can toy with him?” Alecto suggested sarcastically as she descended the stairs and left his office.

Potter.

Potter?

Potter was here? 

Alarmed and confused, Snape stared at the camera, his fingers tapping impatiently at his desk. His thoughts weren’t coming together. His mind felt clouded, sluggish. All he knew was that Potter shouldn’t be here. No, it would be dangerous for Potter to be here. The Dark Lord could — could what? The Dark Lord had perished.

He looked over the letters of his desk and brushed them aside. The ornately decorated surface of the desk revealed itself under the clutter of parchment. 

Snape looked around.

The Headmasters Office was largely the same. His office was dimly lit as he requested it to be at all times. Tall columns of books surrounded him. Dumbledore’s Pensieve sat to the side. Two long lines of glowing red crisscrossed through the floor. The walls of paintings of former Headmasters hung on the pale stone walls.. But where there was once normally quiet conversations amongst the paintings, there was now silence. In fact, the paintings didn’t move at all. Snape looked up at the Dumbledore’s painting. The old Headmaster sat still, looking out into his former office with quiet fondness.

“Albus,” Snape attempted.

The painting sat eerily still.

“Albus,” he tried again to no avail. Odd. 

Snape pointed his wand at Dumbledore’s painting and tried a succession of commanding spells, but none animated the painting. Had Alecto done something to the paintings? He looked up at the wall. To all the paintings?

He descended the stairs and walked out his office. The halls were empty. It was the start of dinnertime; Snape expected at least some traffic moving to the Great Hall.

The short trek to the Great Hall had been strangely quiet. No ghosts floating their way to the Hall. Not even the occasional cackle of the Poltergeist. Snape hesitated to call it peaceful.

When he walked through the side entrance to the Hall, it was already alive with merriment. Students were already dining. The long tables on the Slytherin side were filled with students. Ravenclaw was a quarter full; Hufflepuff’s tables were nearly empty. Gryffindor’s tables were also a quarter full. Snape scanned the lions for Potter and was relieved to find him absent. Lupin sat at the far end of the faculty table with Tonks. 

As Snape sat down for his meal, he recognized that the merriment he heard earlier was simply the sound of eating, the clatter of plates and utensils. No one spoke among the students. Even the faculty was quiet. Alecto and Amycus must have threatened them to silence.

He scanned the Slytherin tables for Draco, and he too was nowhere to be found. Crabbe had his hood up, obscuring most of his face, as he ate. As he looked, Snape realized many more Slytherins had their hoods up. 

“Why do they have their hoods up?” Snape asked Amycus on his left. “Is that your idea?”

“No, they just decided to do that,” Amycus answered with an uncaring shrug. Snape’s gaze lingered on the Slytherins for a moment longer. 

“Is it the Dark—“ 

“Dinner’s finished! Back to your rooms!” Alecto exploded suddenly to his right, cutting off Snape’s questoin. 

Like clockwork, all students rose to their feet all at once and marched out in groups with their Prefects and Heads of House. McGonagall led the small group of Gryffindors out, followed by Flitwick and his Ravenclaws, Sprout and her Hufflepuffs, and Slughorn and his army of Slytherins. Snape noted that most of the hooded seventh years seemed bigger than normal. Amycus, too, stood and left as if he hadn’t heard Snape’s question at all.

Soon, Snape was left alone in the Hall. He glanced down the faculty table; most of the plates were only half-finished. Alecto’s plate was hardly touched at all.

What the hell was going on?


	2. May 4, 1998

The normal disturbance from Peeves was late, if it was ever going to come at all. It was already well after seven in the morning when Severus woke. Peeves normally came around six. He wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep or when he had come into the Headmaster’s quarters. 

He was still in his teaching robes, and a faint cloud was swirling inside his head. It made it hard to think. Was he injured? He walked to the mirror to examine his head and neck. When he found nothing out of the ordinary, he bathed himself and readied for the day. It was a Monday morning, so it was time to clear out the Carrows’ makeshift torture chamber they had set up in Filch’s office. If Severus didn't let out the students, no one would. They didn't deserve such treatment; their typical mischief had been being born of the ‘wrong’ blood or, worse, looking at Alecto the wrong way.

When he walked into his living area, the red lines that had crossed through his office also crossed through the room. But there were more here. Three lines that ran almost parallel to one another. Each glowed a dark red. It must have always been there. Otherwise, Severus would have surely examined it.

So why was he so curious now and why did the fogginess in his head seem to beckon him to look away? 

When he looked away from the red lines, he was more alert. When he stared at it, his eyes would droop as if sleep threatened to overtake him. A thought pierced through the fog and warned him of the glowing lines.

Dark magic. This was surely the work of Dark magic.

He stared at the dark red glow. His mind fought him, and he felt the crushing weight of fatigue. 

“ _Accio Pepper-Up Potion_ ,” he uttered, unable to draw his eyes away from the lines for fear that he may lose his concentration. No vials came to him. He was certain he had some of the potion in his stores. 

“Test the line. Test the line. Test the line,” he muttered to himself, repeating it like a mantra as he turned so he wouldn’t forget. He walked to his kitchen cupboards, pulling out an unlabelled vial of orange liquid. Severus downed the bottle. “Test the line.” Energy lightened his mind, but he could still feel the presence of the fog in his head. “Test the line.” He returned to the line.

He knelt by the glowing line closest to him and tapped his wand on it. As the tip of his wand made contact, red magic swirled upwards like a silky liquid. For all his experience in potions, spells, and the Dark Arts, he had never once seen magic like this before. When he pulled away his wand, the liquid magic sank back down into the line, and it smoothed itself back into the discrete straight line it once was. Whatever disturbance Severus had introduced to it had disappeared as if he hadn’t touched it at all. 

“ _Diffindo_ ,” he incanted, attempting to sever the line. But it had no effect. He prodded the red glow with the end of his vial, but it behaved much like it did when he tapped it with his wand. When he tried to scoop the liquid magic into the vial, the glass simply scraped the stone ground underneath and captured nothing.

Few things in the world were truly unknown to Severus. He could rely on his skills of observation to perceive and understand most things. Even where he didn’t truly understand intent or context, he could reliably assume its existence and figure things out from there. These red lines, however, escaped all explanation. That it seemed to not want him to understand it made him all the more frustrated. There was never a magic in the world that would not only so deliberately avoid his understanding but threaten to distract him from its mystery.

He decided he would examine the lines some more after he had freed the poor captive students in Filch’s office. And so he wouldn’t forget, he scribbled down a note to himself to ‘investigate the red lines’ on a parchment and stuffed it into his robes. Something in the back of his mind told him he was being overly cautious, perhaps bordering paranoia. He told that part of his mind to shut it.

When he walked out of his quarters and into his office, where there were only two lines the day before, there were now three. They hummed and glowed and connected to the lines in his quarters. The portraits on the wall were still unmoving. Albus seemed unnervingly quiet.

Severus took the camera that Alecto had left on his desk and walked out.

Outside his office, the lines extended through the castle halls, where other lines now criss-crossed the floors. 

The few students he passed on his way to Filch’s office didn’t seem to notice the lines at all, and Severus noticed that they wouldn’t look away when he walked by as if he didn’t inspire the same level of fear and distrust as he once did just days before. In fact, they seemed to not notice him at all. All the better, he supposed, but no less odd.

He walked through the corridor that overlooked the courtyard and peered out the window when he noticed the same red lines crossing the grass and stone grounds outside. The magic seemed unfazed by the medium through which it flowed. Grass, stone, metal even. Severus saw the lines pass through a metal grate. Where there were empty slots for water to drain, the red line had covered as if it had a material existence. Its glow was also no less strong for having to maintain a contiguous form for itself in mid-air.

Footsteps pulled him from his thoughts, and he wondered just how long he had stood at the window, staring out. 

It was Lavender Brown walking down the hall behind him with books clutched high up on her chest, covering her neck. Gryffindor. Seventh year. She had been obsessed with Ronald Weasley at one point. Why did he know this? 

“Ms. Brown,” he called out suddenly before she could walk past him. 

Brown stopped in her tracks and looked up at him a little too mechanically and a little too devoid of character for his liking. She didn’t seem to fear him at all, and Severus remembered distinctly being able to invoke the fear of discipline in his students with his tone alone.

“Yes, Headmaster?” she answered.

“Do you see those red lines there?” he asked.

Brown peered out the window and looked at the red lines in the grass. “Yes, sir,” she answered.

“Have they always been there?”

Brown looked perplexed, as if she didn’t know the answer to the question. And her eyes moved slowly between Severus and the window. “I don’t know, sir.”

Severus’s brows furrowed fractionally, his eyes hardening on the girl. It was a look that would normally inspire fear in and truth from his students, but Brown seemed more confused than scared. “You don’t know,” he repeated slowly, punctuating each word with skepticism.

Brown considered the tone and took a moment to think before deciding that, yes, she really did not know. “I don’t know, sir,” she repeated, shaking her head. And then she stood expectantly as if waiting to be dismissed.

“That is all,” Severus said finally, waving her off. Brown nodded and turned, walking back where she came from. Why was she walking that way? And why was she walking like that?

Curious, he looked down at the camera in his hand and lifted it, pointing it towards where Brown was walking, and peered through the lens. He saw the entire left side of her neck and shoulder had been missing her as if she had been eaten but not completely. Flesh hung off her broken skin. Alarmed, he looked up and watched Brown turn the corner, seeming entirely normal.

He raced to find her down the hall and looked at her through his camera again. She was normal.

Questioning his sanity, Severus looked through the camera at the courtyard and saw the red glowing lines. Normal.

He continued his trek to Filch’s office and arrived to find the door slightly ajar. When he walked inside, Filch was nowhere to be found, and the adjacent room where students were normally hanged by their thumbs were empty. The chains were set aside in a box as if they hadn't been used in days. Severus was certain he would find at least one student here, especially Colin Creevey.

He set down the camera that belonged to Creevey on a table.

The front office door creaked open suddenly, and Severus turned quickly to find the last person he wanted to see.

“Potter!” he hissed, crossing the office quickly and slamming the door shut. 

“Snape!” Potter gasped, looking as if he'd been caught some place he shouldn't. In his hand was his Invisibility Cloak. Severus noticed he was wearing a necklace; the jewel of the necklace was hidden underneath his robes.

“What are you doing here?” Severus hissed, looking around him, making sure that there were no wards that might have detected his presence. Suddenly, Potter lifted his hand, reaching up for him, but quickly retracted it. Severus caught staring at him in a daze before his eyes sharpened to their usual bright green again — and then the usual machinations of coming up with a lie began as well. Even without using Legilimency, he could see Potter trying to spin a story.

“I— um, well, I was looking for Mr. Filch,” Potter stammered. 

Lie. Potter was a bad liar. Severus saw through it easily. Just like he saw that Potter was lying about his Advanced Potions textbook just a year ago. A morose feeling crossed his chest. That had been the last time Potter was his student. Everything had fallen apart after that. He had killed Albus. He had mended many students in secret after they were tortured. To his great peril, he had successfully delivered the Sword of Gryffindor to Potter. He had been found by Lucius at the castle and summoned to the Dark Lord in the Shrieking Shack —

“Professor?” Potter voiced worriedly, and Severus lost his train of thought. He noticed Potter’s concerned expression.

“You’re not supposed to be here!” Severus warned. “If He were to —“ Were to what exactly? The Dark Lord was gone. 

Potter seemed to be on the same line of thinking as well. “He’s gone, sir,” he offered gently. Potter was right. The Dark Lord was gone. Potter had vanquished him.

“Is everything all right?” Potter continued.

Confused, Severus stared at Potter. For a flash of a moment, he felt a temptation to report that everything was indeed all right. But all was not right. All was not right at all.

“No, Potter, something is wrong,” he said slowly, unsure of how to put to words the unease he felt.

“Did you really love my mother?” Potter asked suddenly, and Severus looked as taken aback as he felt. 

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

“Did you?” Potter pressed on. The answer didn’t matter nearly as much as how Potter knew about his secret. 

“How do you know?”

“So you did,” Potter voiced. His tone was neither accusatory nor mocking. It seemed to confirm something he already knew.

“How do you know?” Severus repeated, irritated. 

Potter frowned at the question and looked at his face. Severus waited for an answer, but none would come as Potter’s bottom lip trembled and his bright green eyes welled up with tears. Before Severus could admonish him, Potter had flung himself against him, embracing him. He cried into his shoulder. Severus was more confused now than when he first entered the room. His mind searched for reasons for Potter’s odd behavior but arrived at nothing. But if Potter were crying, perhaps he was also on the verge of telling him the truth.

Severus awkwardly patted Potter on the back while his other hand gently pushed him away, wanting to be out of his death grip. Potter, however, refused to be pried away.

“I’m sorry,” Potter whispered between sobs. “I should’ve — should’ve moved faster. I should’ve figured it out sooner.”

Severus stilled. What was he talking about? He continued patting him, hoping to coax more from him.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know! I thought you were on His side,” he cried. “I thought you deserved it!” Potter clenched into his robes, his fingers digging into Severus’s back. 

“What did I deserve?” Severus asked, his voice low and quiet. No answer.

After a moment, Potter collected himself, his short breaths evening out, and shook his head. “I’ll figure it out. I promise,” he whispered, looking up at Severus. But, as if he saw something he couldn’t bear witnessing, he looked away suddenly and shook his head again.

“I’ll figure it out,” he muttered to himself.

This time, Potter pulled away, but Severus held him in place. 

“What is going on, Potter?” 

For once, his question came from honest confusion. It wasn’t the start of an interrogation where Severus knew Potter had done something wrong. He truly did not understand what was happening.

“The red lines. They weren’t there before, were they?” Severus continued when Potter didn't answer. His eyes were downcast. “Why are the Slytherins wearing hoods?” Potter shook his head. Severus had to consider his questions carefully. If this were the work of the Dark Lord, if this were a convoluted mind trick to test his loyalty, he still had to pretend to obey his master. “How was the Dark Lord killed?” Nothing still.

Potter must know something. Wasn’t he the reason for everything? 

“Potter, what is happening!” he demanded, his voice tinted with the fear he couldn't keep at bay. 

“I don’t know any more than you do!” Potter cried, glaring up at Severus. Somehow, he found some deeply buried sense of bravery. “I don’t know! But I’ll figure it out!” Severus nearly believed his conviction, but he knew better than to rely on Potter for solving problems. 

“Why are the members of the Order here? Lupin and Tonks, I saw them last night,” Severus attempted again, his voice calmer.

Potter’s nostrils flared, and he shook his head again. “I don’t know, Snape. But I don’t think they mean us any harm.”

It wasn’t a satisfactory answer, but Potter truly didn’t seem to know any more. “Let me know if you find anything,” he instructed, letting him go finally.

Relieved to have his freedom back, Potter nodded and wiped away his tears. “I’ll make it right, Snape. I promise.”

Severus didn’t know how to answer. What did he mean? “You have allies here,” Severus answered vaguely. 

“I know,” Potter answered and left.


	3. May 5, 1998

Severus didn’t remember going to bed. He didn’t remember feeling tired. But just as he had done the day before, he woke in his teaching robes. This time, his shoes were still on. In bed. Severus had gone to bed with his shoes and socks still on.

What would have possessed him to do that?

As before, Peeves never came to him. His clock told him it was just before breakfast. His gaze went from his clock to the ground. The glowing red lines were still there as if they had always been there.

At breakfast in the Great Hall, many of the Slytherin students still had their hoods up, and Lupin and Tonks still sat at the other end of the table. They were talking quietly to themselves. They seemed to be the only ones talking at all. The only other sound present in the Halls were the clattering of plates and utensils. 

Severus decided against asking Alecto and Amycus anything about the red lines. Neither of them had the talent to summon such magic. Only the Dark Lord could even fathom or attempt such a thing. And if somehow they knew what was happening and Severus didn’t, then it meant the Dark Lord had already suspected his defection. And by then, his best strategy was to feign ignorance. And so he did. 

He ate his breakfast slowly and waited for Lupin and Tonks to leave before dismissing himself from the Carrows.

Severus found them holding hands just outside the Great Hall, facing away from him. They were more animated than they had been inside the Hall. They seemed to be sharing a rare intimate moment, and something told him not to intrude. He remembered insulting his former student’s changed Patronus, and he regretted his words now. From the way they moved with each other, they clearly loved one another.

When the pair began to walk away, Severus followed them. “Remus, Tonks,” he called out, and the pair stopped and turned to face him. Tonks looked more annoyed than Lupin did, so Severus elected to face him.

“Why are you here?” Severus asked. 

Lupin looked at him square in the eyes, and Severus was unnerved by his calmness. “The same reason you are,” he answered.

“I’m the Headmaster here,” Severus countered his cryptic reply. “Since when were you faculty?”

“Four years ago,” Lupin answered, almost amused. “Until you had me sacked for my lycanthropy.”

“For good reason. You were a danger to the students.”

“Not anymore than you are now,” Lupin bit back icily. 

“Look. We’re just hoping, all right?” Tonks cut in. “We know he’s not —“ Her mouth continued to move but no words came out. “We know he’s not —“ Tonks’s hands went to her mouth and throat. A number of emotions crossed Tonks’s expressive eyes all at once. Shock from her inability to speak. Fear that something had bound her from speaking. Recognition that this was happening again. And finally, reluctant acceptance as she looked over to Lupin and found that he too had the same look.

Lupin shook his head and pressed his lips to her temple. Severus looked away when Tonks’s frown deepened, and she closed her eyes. She turned and hid her face against Lupin’s body.

The brunet took his wife’s hand and squeezed it against his chest. “It’ll be all right, Nymphadora,” he murmured quietly, though neither his voice nor his face conveyed any confidence in his words. If anything, Severus noticed Lupin’s eyes had faded somewhat.

“You both know what’s happening then,” Severus said after a moment. “The red lines. The students.” Was this still the Dark Lord’s test?

“What did Albus tell us the last time the three of us gathered?” Severus asked suddenly, needing to ascertain how much he could trust him.

“That we are to trust each other if we wanted to make it out alive,” Lupin answered easily. 

He was correct nearly word for word. Perhaps this wasn’t one of the Dark Lord’s tests after all. “What’s happening, Remus?”

“I can’t say,” he answered honestly. “Just like Nymphadora, the same happens to me.”

Nymphadora wiped away her tears and straightened up. “We can’t write it either. This is all we can do.” She lifted her and Lupin’s joined hands. “This is all we have. It’s more than we could ask for.”

“Then let me ask you some questions,” Severus suggested, and Lupin frowned at that. 

“It’s better that you not know, Severus. If you don’t know, then you are not meant to know, which means you are —“ Just like with Tonks, Lupin’s mouth continued to move but no sound came out. It was no use. Deflated, Lupin shook his head again. “Please, Severus, please give me and my wife —”

“Are you safe?” Severus cut in.

Lupin seemed surprised by the question. Dumbledore had been correct in his assessment of the man. After a moment, he shook his head, and some light returned to his eyes. The Great Hall doors opened and out came its students.

“No, but you are,” Lupin answered finally.

Then, as if Lupin and Tonks had said too much, they both straightened suddenly, turned, and walked away from him. The flood of students marched past him to their classes.

Lupin’s cryptic answers sat uneasily in him. Something was horribly wrong at Hogwarts. Alecto and Amycus shouldn’t be here. Neither should Lupin nor Tonks. All the students, even Potter, were behaving oddly. Had they all been poisoned? Cursed? What did it mean that Lupin and Tonks were not safe but that he was?

He needed to get out of Hogwarts to find his answers. He had no meetings today. The O.W.L. proctors from the Ministry weren’t due to come until tomorrow; he had time to leave for the day. 

Severus swept down the hall quickly. Just like the portraits in his office, the ones in the halls were also still and quiet. He headed toward the Main Gate, passing through the Courtyard where the lines had crossed through. But before he reached the Dark Forest, he noticed a very thick red line sitting between him and the threshold of Hogsmeade Village. The line was larger and wider and any other line he saw inside the castle. It stretched out past the the green houses to his right and the Octagon tower to his left. He could only presume the line must have extended into the castle itself. 

As he neared the line, he could see clearly just how unnatural it was. Against the irregularities of the grass, the line was defiantly straight. When Severus disturbed the grass with his wand, he could not disturb the line. It simply swirled as before and settled back down. Up close, he could see just how wide this particular line was. It was as wide as he was tall. 

The Apparation border was just beyond the line. All other paths that led to Hogsmeade would have to cross this threshold. With no other alternative for leaving the castle, Severus walked through the line. Red magic swirled around his shoes.

Severus woke in his bed with no recollection of how he ever made it there. He had been walking towards Hogsmeade Village in one moment, and the next, he was in his bed again. 

His clock struck twelve. It had been hours since he attempted to walk into Hogsmeade. And he was once again in his robes. This time, however, his shoes had been removed and set neatly by his bedside. It wasn't where he normally put them, but at least he wasn't wearing them in bed.

His head throbbed, and his skin felt warm, like he had been out in the sun for too long. His robes smelled of grass and dirt.

Something was trying to keep him inside Hogwarts. And, unfortunately for whatever that thing was, Severus was far too stubborn to be beat by it.

He cleaned himself and dressed in only his dress shirt and slacks. For good measure, he carried a watch. This was a battle. Whoever was keeping him from escaping would have to fight him. He kept a piece of parchment and quill on him, just in case. 

_8:00. Leaving Hogwarts._  
_12:00. Returned to bed._  
_12:35pm. Leaving Hogwarts._

“ _Finite_!” he bellowed, pointing his wand at the line. Nothing happened, but he hoped something did. He stared into the distance, visualizing himself successfully walking through, and stepped through.

Severus woke again in his bed. The light outside was more orange now, and the clock revealed it was four in the afternoon. His face stung from being out in the sun. When he looked in the mirror, he was clearly a shade tanner than he had been earlier in the morning.  
  
_4:06pm. Returned to bed._  
_4:25pm. Leaving Hogwarts, flying._

Perhaps it had to do with physically touching the line. Luckily, unlike most others, Severus was capable of unassisted flight. He pocketed his parchment and quill and took a running start, leaping into the air.

_6:03pm. Returned to bed. Sore. Light bruising on left arm and leg._

The skies were nearly dark now. But he needed to one more thing. If he couldn’t get out, he could at least broadcast his distress to members of the Order who were not confined in Hogwarts. Once more, he walked up to the threshold and pulled out his wand. 

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” Nothing came from his wand. Not his doe, not even a sliver of vapor. 

He closed his eyes and let the memory of meeting Lily for the first time fill him once more. 

“ _Expecto Patronum_!” Nothing.

When did he lose his Patronus? Was it his wand? 

“ _Lumos_ ,” he cast, but his wand did not light up.

The wand-lighting charm was as easy as they came. Why was his wand not answering him? He tried a succession of spells with equal non-response.

He tried wandless magic. Severus quickly closed his eyes and tried to levitate himself to fly. Nothing. 

Cold dread flowed into the pit of his stomach.

It wasn’t his wand. 

It was him. 

Severus Snape could no longer cast magic. 


	4. May 6, 1998

What was he without magic? How was he to figure out what was happening? 

Severus stood at the border for a long moment, staring out into the distance, the proverbial great beyond. No one seemed to be returning from Hogsmeade. For a few hours, Severus monitored the path to Hogsmeade from the Main Gate. No one left, and no one came. Not even the occasional owl. Whatever was keeping people in must have also kept people out. 

Education Ministers were due to arrive tomorrow morning to deliver the exams for the OWLs. Surely, they would detect that something was wrong and would send the appropriate help. 

The clock struck eleven in the evening when he gave up on watching the path to Hogsmeade. He retired toward the Owlery, hoping to find an owl who was capable of making it past the borders. To his surprise, he wasn’t alone. One of the Weasley twins and Colin Creevey were standing amidst the quiet owls. What was the Weasley doing here? Had he not left the school in a blaze of glory and set up his own jokes shop? They both seemed to just be looking up at the owls. Each had a letter in their hands, but none of the owls came to them. They were both standing on some lines that crossed the floor, and the red glowing magic lit their bodies in a strange glow.

“Mr. Weasley, Mr. Creevey,” Severus greeted, announcing his presence.

“Headmaster Snape,” Creevey gasped, turning. Ah. A sense of normalcy. Creevey still feared him. The Weasley stood in front of him, defending him. “We were just —“

“Are you able to send your letters?” Severus cut in, waving away the formalities. 

“No,” the Weasley answered seriously. “They won’t come down to us.”

“You’re —“

“Fred. Trying to send a letter to my family, but none of the ruddy owls are coming down. We’ve tried leaving, but we can’t seem to get past the border.”

“Do you know what’s happening, sir?” Creevey piped up. Fred looked pained at Creevey’s question, as if he’d been asked the same thing one too many times.

“No, I do not,” Severus answered a little honestly. Creevey deflated. “I am working on figuring it out,” he added, invoking energy from his duty and responsibility as Headmaster. “Do you remember anything before the lines appeared?” At his question, Severus noticed Fred’s eyes flash with recognition. Their eyes met, and Weasley shook his head fractionally, suggesting he shouldn’t press that line of questioning.

“I don’t — haven’t the lines always been there?” Creevey asked, confused. 

“It’s late,” Fred cut in. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow. The birds’ll be more alert in the morning anyway.” The blond frowned, not happy with the owls, but nodded all the same. “Go back to your dormitory. I’ll catch you there.”

“I’ll see you, Fred. Good night, Headmaster,” Creevey announced as he walked away. 

Once they were both certain that Creevey was out of earshot, Severus crossed his arms and leveled a look at the Weasley. “Spill,” he bit out.

“He doesn’t need to know everything. He still thinks he’s attending classes,” Fred countered. “Give him some peace.”

“Spill, Weasley,” he snapped. “Why are you here?”

Fred rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “I don’t know why the owls aren’t answering me. But I do know how I got here. I came here with George and my mum and dad to fight Voldemort, to fight you, you old git. And based on the looks of things,” Fred gestured vaguely around them. “We’ve won.”

“But?”

“But you’re somehow still here and George isn’t here and neither is my mum and dad. And I can’t do any magic. So maybe we haven’t won,” Fred answered bitterly.

“Mr. Creevey doesn’t remember those events?” Severus asked.

“No. He doesn’t. And it’s probably for the best that he doesn’t,” Fred answered sadly. 

“Why’s that? You seem fine knowing that there was a battle here,” Severus countered.

“Merlin, are you thick, Snape! Look at him. He’s just a child, and he’s frightened out of his wits! He was in the battle. I saw him get hit by the Killing Curse. He died! Who wants to remember that!” 

“What do you mean he died? He was right there,” Severus countered, turning to look and gesturing at where Creevey had exited. The lines brightened suddenly, and it became so blinding that Severus had to cover his eyes with his arm. He blindingly stumbled toward the exit.

“Weasley! Get out!” 

No answer. 

“Weasley?” Severus turned, squinting to look for Fred.

He saw Fred standing over the bright beams of light that came from the line. His body was taut. He was screaming with no sound, his mouth agape, his face twisted in agony. The light suddenly vanished, and Fred was gone. 

* * *

Severus woke with a start. The sun was just creeping into the sky, but his room was bathed in red light. The once gleaming columns that decorated the Headmaster’s quarters were dulled in the dark red hue. It looked almost sinister.

He looked out his window, which faced the Black Lake. Dumbledore’s tomb was a small white box in the distance. What was out of place was the thick line that crossed the Black Lake. It had not been there the day before. Dumbledore’s tomb sat outside the barrier. 

The barrier must have changed.

He skipped breakfast altogether and went straight to the Owlery. No one was inside, and all the birds had gone as well. Not a single bird remained. Fred was gone.

Fred’s last words haunted him still, but he couldn’t make any sense of how Creevey could be dead. He had just seen him, and he was no ghost. In fact, Severus had seen none of the Hogwarts ghosts since the red lines appeared. The image of Brown’s half eaten, decayed body came back to him.

Severus moved to the Main Gate. The Ministry’s intervention was his only salvation. And if the Ministry could get anyone through the barrier, he wanted to be the first to receive them. 

When he reached the Main Gate, he noticed the red line had moved closer. It had changed. The outside air seemed somehow more stale. There were no clouds in the sky, and the light that came through was pale red. Severus looked up and noticed faint swirling red magic in mid-air, emanating from the barrier. Its magic was vaporizing into the air. 

He waited at the gate until noon, hours past when the ministers were due to arrive. They weren’t coming. 

Severus spent the afternoon searching the castle halls for Fred Weasley. He found Lavender Brown in the same corridor again, walking back and forth over the same path with the same books held up. 

He burst into the potions classroom to find Slughorn tracing over the same words on the chalkboard. The chalk had worn so much that his nails occasionally scraped against the board as he wrote over the his words again and again. The students were not brewing anything; they were all taking notes. Like Slughorn, they traced over their own words, writing and rewriting their notes. 

None seemed to notice his entrance.

“Professor Slughorn,” he called out. No one moved. Was he there at all?

Classroom after classroom was like this. The students and faculty behaved like automatons. Binns’s class was perhaps the most eerie of all. The students all looked to the front of the classroom, staring at nothing but jotting down notes all the same. Severus peered over their notes. They were writing about Nicolas Flamel. Severus could not find Creevey nor Fred were in any of the classes. Potter was absent as well.

Even in the kitchens, the house elves worked like clockwork. He saw one elf pick out what he must have thought was a carrot, except he had picked out nothing at all, and continued to cut it as normal.

Severus kept calm. Being anything else meant he wouldn’t survive this. However, his urgent steps that would sometimes break into a sprint betrayed how scared he felt. He felt the urge to scream for help. His mind pleaded for forgiveness, and he felt the collective helplessness of the victims that fell to Death Eaters. His lungs burned. The feeling of not enough air; the feeling of near collapse; the need to run, to hide, to plead.

He ran for the Gryffindor tower, robes weighing in the wind behind him. The portrait of the Fat Lady was stock still like the rest of the portraits on the walls. The entrance was slightly ajar. The magic that kept the portrait shut was no longer there. 

Severus pulled open the entrance and walked through. All the red decor seemed to glow with the light that came through the windows. 

“Weasley! Mr. Creevey!” he shouted. 

No answer. 

There were no students in the dormitories. 

“Anyone!” he pleaded desperately to the empty rooms.

When Severus went to dinner, he noticed there were considerably fewer students. Lupin and Tonks were nowhere to be found. The Slytherin table had about the same number of students as the Ravenclaw. The plates no longer had food. People were eating nothing at all.

“Where is everyone?” he asked Amycus.

“Left. Withdrew from Hogwarts. The letters are on your desk. They all left on the train this morning,” Amycus answered in between chews, although there was no food on his plate at all. “Pity. We’ve even stopped torturing them.”

“They went to Hogsmeade?”

“That’s where the train is, innit?” 

Severus clenched his jaw. Amycus knew nothing. There was no way anyone could have made it past the barrier. And he would have seen them leave for Hogsmeade this morning. 

His students had gone missing. 

When Alecto dismissed the Hall, Severus stood and followed the Slytherins as they filed out the hall. He followed one of the larger students, the one who seemed too big for his robes and wore a hood over his head. Severus reached over and pulled back his hood. 

Severus’s eyes widened. He wasn’t a student at all. It was Greyback — except his eyes were faint and pale as if he had been blinded. Severus stiffened, preparing for Greyback to strike him. But Greyback stared unseeingly at Severus, pulled on his hood, and followed the rest of the Slytherins back to their dormitory. 

Severus pulled away another student’s hood. Another Death Eater. Augustus Rockwood. Another. Yaxley. Both Death Eaters. All with the same pale unseeing eyes as if none recognized him or could see him at all. 

He pulled Yaxley aside, and the Death Eater followed, stumbling over himself as he was pulled from his place in the rank and file. 

“Yaxley,” he hissed. “What are you doing here?”

No response came from him. He looked as though he had been robbed of his senses. Severus couldn’t tell if he knew he had just been pulled away. 

Severus fished into his jacket and found his wand. He attempted the wand-lighting charm. Nothing still. 

“Answer me,” Severus commanded. 

Yaxley’s mouth moved, but no sound came. Severus strained to read his lips, and it vaguely looked like he said ‘yes, sir.’ 

Severus let him go. Yaxley pulled on his hood again and walked toward the group, his movements stilted as if guided by an invisible string.

His searching led him to the Astronomy Tower that night. Like other parts of the castle, it too was empty and devoid of life. He peered out into the red night sky and prayed to whatever gods might exist for help.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the lifeless silence.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” 

Severus turned his head quickly to find Potter climbing up the stairs. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His hair was a mess, and he had long abandoned his robes in favor of just his dress shirt and slacks.

“No, I don’t think so,” Severus answered, perplexed for how Potter had found him here. “Where have you been?”

“Figuring things out, like I said I would,” Potter answered, hopping the last step, and joined him at the terrace overlooking the lake.

“And have you figured anything out?”

Potter laughed. “Oh, loads. You?”

Severus was disturbed by how Potter could be laughing. “Not enough for any of it to make sense.”

“That’s good.” Potter’s response was so airy and dismissive that Severus felt something break inside.

Severus’s face twisted as he turned to look over at Potter, who seemed more mad than sane. “What’s good about any of this! The students and faculty are acting like they’ve not a mind of their own. No one can leave for Hogsmeade. We’re trapped. How is any of this _good_?”

“You know, you’re usually the one with the answers,” Potter answered glibly, a little too fond for Severus’s liking. Potter seemed almost at peace, like he had indeed figured out what was happening and was undisturbed by it. “Feels good to know something you don’t for a change.”

“Enlighten me,” Severus bit out, impatience unraveling the edges of his already thin hold on sanity.

“How many men and women _have_ you watched die?” Potter asked, his emphasis seeming to harken back to a conversation they had but never did. “Dumbledore asked you that.”

Severus didn’t know how Potter knew of his conversation with Dumbledore, just as he didn’t know how he knew he had a relationship with Lily, just as he didn’t know why Fred Weasley thought Colin was dead. 

“Lately, only those whom I could not save,” he answered, repeating the words he had once said to Dumbledore. It was as true then as it was now.

Potter smiled fondly at that, as if he were somehow part of that conversation. “Why couldn’t you stand that I would be among them?” he continued. 

“Dumbledore used me to protect you, so you could die at the proper moment,” Severus answered honestly. 

“Dumbledore used you to protect a lot of people so they could die at the proper moment,” Potter countered, and he looked out to the lake.

A long moment passed. “Did we all die?” he asked hesitantly. 

Potter frowned and looked back. When their eyes met, Severus noticed his bright green eyes had faded in the red light. 

“Yes,” Potter answered firmly. “We did.”

Severus swallowed thickly. This was death, he supposed. It was odder than he expected it to be. He should have expected his death would be agonizing — trapped in Hogwarts, unable to escape, stuck with Potter, stuck with the Death Eaters. He knew he would die one day, but he was curious that there truly was such a thing as Limbo.

“But we defeated the Dark Lord?” he asked, wanting to be certain.

“Yes.”

“How come I don’t remember it?”

“Because it happened after you died.”

Severus felt cold and fell silent again. It was hard to process one’s death when he didn’t feel dead. He looked out to the black red lake. The wind carried no sound. No birds, no insects. Just the stillness of death.

“Everyone we’ve seen — they’re dead?” he asked after a moment.

“Who have you seen?”

“Remus Lupin.”

Potter must have had a moment of grief as he had fallen silent. “Yes, he’s dead. Tonks too.”

“Fred Weasley?”

“Also.”

“Colin Creevey.”

Potter went silent again for a long moment before he answered. “Yes.”

“Creevey didn’t remember his death.”

“No one should.”

At that, Severus fell silent. The glow hummed over the dark lake.

“What of Minerva?”

Potter’s silence spoke volumes. He was still grieving. 

“Where are we?” Severus continued, hoping the change in subject would encourage him to speak again.

“Hogwarts.”

“Obviously. Why are we here?”

“Have you grown to care for me after all?” Harry asked suddenly, changing the topic altogether.

Severus stilled, caught by surprise by how blunt his question came. 

“What?”

“Dumbledore asked you that. Had you come to care for me after all?” Potter continued.

Severus let out a sigh. He was dead now, and lies were for the living. He leaned against the railing and glanced at Potter before looking out to the distance.

“If you’re asking me this, then you must already know what I had to do for Dumbledore.”

“I want to hear it from you,” Potter answered. 

“How did you know?”

“Does it matter?”

Severus pondered the question for a moment and realized he must not remember it because it was linked to his death. “No, I suppose not.”

Potter waited expectantly for his answer.

“I wanted to atone for my sins, so my soul would remain intact,” he answered, still looking out to the distance. Speaking about souls seemed appropriate in the afterlife. “I thought, by protecting what was left of Lily, by protecting you, the last thing that remained of the only person who ever came close to being family to me, I would somehow honor her.” His eyes narrowed at the pain of her memory. “I dedicated the rest of my life to ensuring you lived.” A chuckle escaped from him. “You didn’t make it very easy.”

“Voldemort didn’t make it easy,” Potter countered, laughing.

“No, He complicated an already impossible task.”

Potter snorted, and Severus smirked at him.

“You made potions miserable for me,” Potter countered.

“Someone needed to put you in your place,” Severus answered easily. “Everyone else seemed much too happy letting you get away with all sorts of trouble because of you were The Boy Who Lived. You weren’t the boy who lived; you were just another idiot.”

Potter’s eyes went round for a quick moment. It was gone in an instant, replaced by a smug smile. “An idiot who defeated the Dark Lord.”

“An idiot who defeated the Dark Lord,” Severus repeated in a frustrated sigh. “And died in the process.”

Potter said nothing. Severus could only assume the death was traumatic. 

“When Dumbledore told me that you were meant to die.” Severus continued, filling the silence. He didn’t want Potter to disappear like Fred had. Not if he could give him some peace. “I suppose I hadn’t considered how much your loss would have affected me. I imagined a happy life for you after Hogwarts. Dumbledore had used Lily against me; I didn’t want him to use you too. I suppose, yes, I had grown to care for you after all.” 

Potter touched his arm. 

“You died in the end,” Severus continued, shaking his head. “None of it mattered.”

“It still matters.” Potter had said it so quietly that Severus almost didn’t hear it.

Severus was about to object when Potter leaned in and kissed him. Potter touched his cheek with one hand and rested his other over his chest. If he were alive, he would have pushed him away. But he wasn’t. He was dead, so he indulged in his plain honesty. Severus returned his kiss eagerly, his hands mirroring Potter’s. 

He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of Potter’s warm body against his own. He only opened his eyes when he felt the warmth of light. The vapors that had glowed dully in mid-air and filtered the sun’s light now produced its own bright glow. The intensity was as strong as the sun.

It was happening again.

“Potter, close your eyes!”

Instinctively, he pulled Potter closer to him and shielded him from the all-consuming light. 

Don’t take him. 

Not yet. 

Please.


	5. May 7, 1998

A thunderous clap woke him. It sounded as if clouds had collided right above the castle. He glanced out the window to find a red sky — almost completely red. He could still see the sun beyond the barrier, and it was already high up. He had missed breakfast, and he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Severus laid on his back and stared up at the ceiling. Potter was gone. That very light outside had taken him. Another he couldn’t save. The one that he was charged to protect, and he couldn’t keep him.

He brought his fingers to his lips, remembering the feeling of Potter’s kiss. 

Potter’s body had felt so warm. Even now, he still craved his contact. Potter made him feel human again.

Severus willed himself to believe he it was simply that — a matter of physical cravings. Thoughts on feelings for Potter were unproductive. They were both dead after all.

It was well past breakfast time, but it didn’t seem to matter. He was the only one on the grounds. Perhaps the light would take him today. 

There were many things he wished he had conveyed to Potter now. These words seemed to come always too late, and there was never a right time to say them. He wondered whether they would matter to Potter to hear them. If the light had come to take him, perhaps Potter was already at peace. Severus hoped so anyway.

The image of Fred's agonized face and soundless scream flashed in his mind.

Perhaps peace had nothing to do with it. The light was simply unforgiving.

He turned to look out the window agian. The barrier had become opaquely red; the sun’s light seemed to be directly absorbed into the barrier. The clouds were faint behind the red. Now that the barrier became darker in color, Severus could see that it curved like a dome.

He trekked along the outer most line, the one that separated him from Hogsmeade, and followed it. It cut through parts of the castle, and Severus made sure to check every corner inside to find the areas where the line was contiguous. It formed a circle. A perfect circle.

A thunderous sound echoed through the dome, and Severus had to cover his ears as the dome itself seemed to shake from the terrible sound. 

The circle must mean something.

Severus noticed new lines had formed in the open grassy area by the lake. Ornate designs. Triangles intersecting one another. A shape of a crescent moon. Bound by a circle. It was the Sigil for Transportation. 

In the distance was another alchemic design — a series of overlapping pentagons in a circle. He didn’t recognize its purpose and suddenly regretted not pursuing potions with an alchemic concentration. He ran back into the castle and found more circles of similar make. Severus was certain that, if he could remove the castle walls, he was standing on a very, very large alchemic sigil with multiple subparts drawn in.

Alchemy was of human make. What was it doing in the afterlife?

There must have been someone behind this. Someone had to have made the circles.

Severus drew the circles down, recording every sigil he could find and their relative positions. He passed by the corridor where Brown had once traversed, but she was no longer there. None of the classrooms he visited hosted any faculty or students.

By the time he found the sigil in the Great Hall, it was already dinnertime. No plates were set. No students in attendance. The faculty table was empty. Severus drew the circle onto his parchment and left.

The library proved fruitful in deciphering some of the alchemic sigils. Severus had lost track of how long he had been up; the sun had gone down, but the strong glow of the barrier brightened the library like daylight. Another thunderous sound; this one stronger than the last. Severus turned back to his books.

The Sigil of Stability with a modifier for permanence — to stabilize the larger circle.

One particular sigil caught his attention. The Sigil of Dream. It had been an early precursor to the Imperius Curse. The Sigil of Dream, when invoked with a human at its center, would cause the individual to fall into a trance-like state and become open to suggestion.

Each marking took time to decipher. Some Severus recognized immediately from his studies in potions; many others he had to consult the tower of books he had now collected on his table. 

The Sigil of Reparo — for healing. Invoked with magic

The Sigil of Seco — for cutting. Invoked by blood.

The Sigil of Lux — for illumination. Invoke by magic.

The Sigil of Lacus — for moving between twin sigils, though Severus had only found one of them. There must have been another somewhere else in the castle. Perhaps even outside.

“Snape.”

Severus snapped his head up. Potter was standing on the opposite side of his table. His green eyes had faint flecks of red.

“Potter.” Severus sounded relieved even to his own ears. He stood and walked around the table. “How are you here?”

Potter didn’t seem as pleased to see him. He seemed to take most offense at the parchment of scribbled alchemic circles. “What are you doing?”

The temptation to make snide comments died in his throat. There were more pressing things at hand.

“It’s alchemy. The barrier — it’s a large circle that hosts other sigils,” Severus explained. Potter picked up the parchment and studied the notes. “Together, they—“

Suddenly, Potter ripped the parchment in half and then ripped it again. 

“What are you—“

“I said I would figure it out” came Potter’s cold and distant answer. 

The chill that ran down his spine quickly sobered him. Severus immediately schooled his expression, the same way he would when he approached the Dark Lord. Any betrayal of his panic would spell his doom.

“You made the circles,” Severus accused.

“I didn’t mean to."

“What do you mean? How did you do this! Where are the students!”

“I have it under control!” Potter exploded. 

“No, you clearly do not, Potter,” Severus growled, yielding to his anger to push down his fear. He gripped Potter’s robes and shook him. “What is the circle for!”

Potter grunted when he was jostled, irritated.

“Haven’t you figured it out?” Potter taunted. He gestured to the expanse of the library, making no movement to be out of Severus’s grip. “It’s for you. This has all been for you. For _us_.” Potter’s face twisted, disgusted at whatever he was thinking about. “I’m _sick_ of being used by everyone! By Dumbledore. By Voldemort. By the Ministry! By the Order! I didn’t want to come back at all! I never asked for any of it!”

“Don't be _stupid!_ These are students' lives!”

“I want my own life!" Harry shouted, glaring defiantly. “I deserve my own life! We both do!"

The way Harry spoke frightened him. Severus knew the aura that Potter commanded. It was the same aura that had drawn him to the Dark Arts, to the Dark Lord himself, to the Death Eaters. It was dark magic, and Potter was at the edge of being corrupted by it — straddling the precious line of sanity and insanity.

Severus's hairs stood on end. He needed to bring him back. Potter was not yet beyond saving.

“What have you done with the circle, Harry?” Severus asked, using his name to remind him of his humanity.

Harry’s wild eyes seemed to calm for a moment, and they searched for something in his own.

“Stay with me, Severus. _Always_.”

Severus stilled at the word. 

“Tell me about the circle.”

It was the wrong answer. Harry’s irritation returned.

“Were we not both used and tossed away?” he continued, nearly shouting. Harry gripped into Severus’s robes. He was trembling. “You know how it feels to be used. My whole life. _Your_ whole life! You gave your life to give me _that small piece_. Allowed to live only to die at the right —” Harry cried, tears rolling down his face. “How could I? HOW COULD I NOT CHOOSE THIS!”

Harry threw his arms around Severus, pulling him into a tight embrace once more. Severus held him close. Harry was falling apart. Whatever this dark magic was suited Harry ill. This was not him.

“Don’t lose yourself to it, Harry,” he whispered into his hair.

Harry whimpered and shrank into his embrace. Severus held him together as he sobbed.

They retired to a large chair, and Severus held him in his lap until the darkness began to subside in Harry. They were quiet. Words would have dispelled it all. Harry was warm, so very warm. Where Severus was meant to comfort him, he himself indulged in Harry’s weight and heat against his body. Harry kissed him again, and Severus returned the kiss once more. 

Severus lost count of how many times they kissed.

Harry had calmed considerably until another clap of thunder shook the dome once more. They both looked to the windows at the same time. A large crack appeared in the dome.

“We’re out of time,” Harry said as he straightened, his eyes fixed to the crack in the dome.

“Out of time for what? You haven't told me what the circle does.”

“It’ll bring you back to me” came a hurried reply. Harry brandished his wand. Severus recognized it. The Dark Lord had it before. The Elder Wand. Harry pointed the wand to the large crack in the sky, and it began to glow and mend.

“How?”

“With lives,” Harry answered, walking closer to the window to find smaller cracks had formed at the perimeter. “With their bodies. Their remaining magic. He was only interested in their souls.” 

Another thunderous clap. The split reappeared. Severus felt sick to his stomach. 

“He?”

“Death.”

Before Severus could answer, Harry slammed the Elder Wand into the ground. The lines in the library brightened. He saw Potter’s eyes turn bright red — all presence of emerald was gone.

The light flashed.

And Severus fainted once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been confusing! All will be explained in the next chapter, which hopefully will be finished soon. Until then, enjoy trying to solve the puzzle!


End file.
